In youth, what disappointments of our own making: in age, what disappointments from the nature of things.

Too low they build who build below the skies.

Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.

What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature; around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!

A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.

The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and Death; he walks with nature; and her paths are peace.

Nothing but what astonishes is true.